


Unfeeling (dude idk I can’t title)

by RosieCantWrite



Series: Read my oneshots you heathens [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieCantWrite/pseuds/RosieCantWrite
Summary: I’m very nervous about posting this because it’s an original work for something stupid I’m doingAlso if any of you read this that read my previous Overwatch fanfiction I’m sorry but she’s dead now I hated it and the only thing I could do was destroy it
Series: Read my oneshots you heathens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810036





	Unfeeling (dude idk I can’t title)

“There is a hidden art to it, I suppose.”

He scoffs. “What part of it do you find artistic?”

She does not respond at once. Opting to stare across the horizon for any incoming enemy. 

The tube twists in his skin as he turns. It used to burn so much, used to practically disable him. It still hurts, but he can’t bring himself to react anymore. He scans the gnarled trees, spots a rusty bear trap glinting in the grass. Not now.

She takes a breath, shrugs. “Maybe it’s the strategy you use, whether you pick them off one by one or take them all out at once. Maybe it’s the careful dance you do to avoid each other, to get closer to and farther from your target.”

She chuckles then, harsh and unforgiving for it. “Maybe it’s just the pretty picture the blood makes on the ground, I don’t know man. Not all of us are lucky enough to be unfeeling, some of us have to make excuses for murder.”

“Unfeeling...” he mumbles, quieter and quieter until it’s simply a hum. The word echoes in his empty head. She says nothing, but her face burns red at the repetition. He finds humour in that, embarrassed enough to shut up but too prideful to apologise.

The dirt and sticks and leaves all sound the same under their feet. Various birds sing their songs from tops of trees. If he wasn’t... this, he would’ve loved the background noise.

A past life far gone, one he shouldn’t think of anymore.

A bush rustles and he doesn’t have to look to know her gun is on it. He doesn’t need to listen to hear her pull the trigger and draw a breath, expecting reprimanding. He starts on moving toward the bush, hunting knife in hand to kill whatever was lucky enough to survive the pistol jamming. “I need to fix this fuckin’ thing...”

Grey-brown fur, rising and falling in uneven rhythm. A rabbit. He waits for it, expects it to jump up and fly off into the underbrush. He waits for 7 seconds, doesn’t mean to count but feels obligated, before poking it gently. He waits 7 more before simply pulling the thing out of the bush and setting it on the ground before them.

“European rabbit. Nearly fully grown. Something’s wrong with this one though.” She crouches beside him, pistol back in the holster. She runs her hands down it’s fur, over the arching spine and into the hip. She squints. “Broken leg. It’s not going to survive out here for very long. Poor little bastard.”

He stares into it’s wild eyes and for one moment he sees it giving up. Spiders run up the column of his back.

The tires of a car crush gravel behind them, finally coming to collect them after all. She walks off to them, notepad in hand to relay their activities. “Put the thing out of it’s misery.”

Pale fingers feel for the neck bones, holding the creature steady. Black into black, the animal flails in a final fight for it’s life. He hears, over the engine of a car, the soft huffs of pain as it kicks the damaged leg.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

———————————————-

The CD pops out, for the briefest of moments, before the tray retreats back in. A soft melody fills his room once more, accompanied with the other small noises he could hear.

The grinding noise of him sharpening his knife.

The hum of a lamp that should’ve stopped working by now.

The heartbeat of a European rabbit, tucked away in a bed of cardboard and scraps of fabric.

The mumbling of it’s saviour. “Unfeeling... unfeeling... unfeeling...”

The groan of a chair held together with duct tape and hope.

“I don’t think so, no.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m very nervous about posting this because it’s an original work for something stupid I’m doing 
> 
> Also if any of you read this that read my previous Overwatch fanfiction I’m sorry but she’s dead now I hated it and the only thing I could do was destroy it


End file.
